


Of Pop-Tarts and Sweaters

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Ficlet, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone said Will and Hannibal go grocery shopping, fluff ensued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Pop-Tarts and Sweaters

“Will.” He frowns down at the cart, Rosie giggles up at them, her fat, childish hands clapping together. “Whatever is this?” 

“Uh - well.” Will tilts his head at him and then at the contents of the shopping cart which has Hannibal’s lip curling so distastefully. “It’s cookies, and well, Rosie liked the pink of the Pop-Tarts, so I thought -” He shrugs. 

“Pop-Tarts.” Hannibal repeats slowly, blinking once and Will rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Pop-Tarts. You know, you put them in the toaster, they heat up.” Will is teasing, but there’s a slight hint of fight in his eyes. “I like them.” 

“Do you now.” Hannibal steps closer. “I would have believed that a wise man such as yourself, having now eaten for several years from my table, would know better than to desire such things.” 

They’re bordering dangerously close to outright flirtation, and in the middle of a grocery store, in front of their daughter, that isn’t really where Will wants to go, on the other hand, Hannibal’s challenging smirk pushes at him, makes his blood loud in his ears. 

“Well, as a _wise_ man.” He’s gritting his teeth, but grinning all at the same time. “that is what I can cook. You make Pâté, I make pop tarts. Only fair we both get to make our daughter a snack, don’t you think?” He tilts his head up at Hannibal. 

“Next you will be asking me to wear sweaters.” Hannibal’s sniffs but his lip curls, amusement running through him. 

Will’s fingers come up to grip his cheek of their own accord, he swears, Hannibal just still gets under his skin, if not as pervasively as before. “Oh, I am already asking for that.” He tightens his grip, just for a fraction of a second, leans in and presses their lips together. 

When they part, Rosie is cooing at them, Hannibal’s face softens in her directions. Will huffs a laugh. 

“We’re getting the Pop-Tarts.” 

And they do.


End file.
